Blog 3: Sad story time

It was early in the morning, and I had just finished my breakfast. After a long, warm shower I was totally ready to begin my relaxing day off from my responsibilities, where I would just negate my adult chores and pretend I was a teenager again. I fired up my PC and opened YouTube. I had no idea what I would look for, but surely I'd find something in the recommendations that might catch my interest. There had to be something, but no. Nothing. 

I opened up my "games" folder and stared at it blankly. It was impossible that after a whole week of craving my day off, I finally had the chance to have time for myself and a few hours of entertainment, but I just stared blankly at the screen. Alone.

Alone.

I started to think. "Remember that Jimmy invited me to his party?" I said I didn't want to go. I could have gone if I wanted to. My car was already back from the mechanic, my bills were covered, I had a full gas tank. Then why do I feel... regret? Nah, it's not. Why would I feel regret? Even if I had gone it would just as boring as staying home. Or even more for that matter. Going out usually involves partaking in alcohol-driven actions that usually had something to do with the invasion of someone's personal space. Either that, in a good occasion, or just talking with one more of the endless, mindless bots that are the people I often meet. I mean, some are not so bad... not bad at all. Some of them I consider great friends. Others even brothers and in the case of the opposite sex, some I consider lovers. But still, it's so... dull.

So there I was. Staring at a white screen of icons. Thinking about life. What a way to spend my vacations. 

I stood up and went to the kitchen. The smell in the air was... different. Not like "vanilla leaf" different, but the feeling I got from it. I don't know, it was weird. It reminded me of my childhood, when my mom would make bags and bags of Christmas cookies for her friends, my brother and me to enjoy. Everything was good then. Everyone was happy, or at least that's what I thought at the time. We would eat cookies all December while we counted down the days left for Christmas. Christmas was the happiest time of the year, especially that one time where my dad actually agreed on coming over and spending the night together as a family. I couldn't believe my two parents were under the same roof. Other kids had told me many stories of how they did stuff like eating supper with both of their parents, and I just found that amusing. I had never experienced something like that. Everything was... blissful.  Eventually, especially when you grow up, moments like those just run out, I guess.

I glimpsed at the clock. Its constant ticking which first induced me into some kind of a state of trance was now the reason I snapped out of it. 40 minutes had passed since I stepped away from the computer. 40 minutes, just alone, thinking about my life and the memories that that weird smell brought back.

Alone. 

On my kitchen table lied a small plate with a single cookie. Guess that that's where the smell comes from. It was so strong... and very inciting. It reminded me of my mother. A lot. That might be the reason why I refused to eat it. 

"Bet you don't even taste as good as you smell. You're a liar. Maybe that's why you remind me so much of her." I whispered.

Was that where I had fallen into? Had I become so pathetic that now I talk with cookies? Shaking that weird occurrence out of my head, I snapped my phone out of my pocket and opened up Snapchat as my last resource of entertainment. There was nothing new so I swiped over to see if there were any interesting stories from IGN or something. As I scrolled down, I saw Jimmy's username there, and for some odd reason, I couldn't help the urge to tap and see how the party had gone.

I was greeted with loud music, videos of people taking shots, people dancing, people talking, people... interacting. I could have gone... I could have been there.

again I shook that though out of my head. Again, If I had gone, I would have to go through all the faking and pretending just to interact with those people. Sometimes it was fun, I guess, but I just felt that I just didn't fully belong, even though I'm great at pretending I do. I could be just like them, but that's to much to ask from me. 

I glanced at the clock again. 90 minutes had passed. I was tired of waiting for something to happen. I was tired of feeling sad for no apparent reason. I was tired of barely existing. I was tired of bearing my mother's choices, and I was most definitely tired of drawing people away from me. So, I stood up, grabbed the damn cookie and ate it. I got dressed up and decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air will give me some way to finish my story, but for the time being, I can't.